


don't look back; don't let go

by jonphaedrus



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M, chock full of spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:51:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How forty years of companionship end in one misplaced statement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't look back; don't let go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rethira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/gifts).



"It had to be done," Nachtigal said, for the tenth time. Rowen could feel his hands shaking, clenched so tight into fists that his nails would dig crescents into his palms later. The younger man had his back to Rowen, not revealing his emotions. "They had been holding out on their taxes, and it was time we used them as an example." 

"You killed two hundred innocent men, women, and children because they were holding out on their _taxes_ ," Rowen's voice was a quiet, thin whisper. He hardly recognised it as his own. "Your Majesty, I can't believe that you did this." One of the king's hands crumpled the paper it was holding, and he sighed long-sufferingly, like _Rowen_ was the one speaking nonsense.

"Ilbert, you're a tactician. You understand that sometimes, sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

"Yes, if we're at war! Or if there's a famine, or a natural disaster!" Rowen wished Nachtigal would turn around. He really did. "Your Majesty, this was not a sacrifice for the greater good. This was senseless murder of innocents. None of those people intentionally held out on their taxes, as you well know! That area has been suffering from a drought for the past two years, it's no wonder that they couldn't pay in their taxes. Once the aqueduct was completed they were all prepared to pay the backlog—"

"That's not good enough!" Nachtigal shouted it.

Rowen took a half-step back.

The younger man turned around, fire blazing in his pale blue eyes. Rowen finished the step.

"We need all the money that we can get. If people can't pay, they will be used for other things." Rowen felt very, very cold.

"Your Majesty, we're at peace with Auj Oule. Rashugal is prosperous. We have plenty of money right now, the treasuries are quite full. Why on earth would we need more? Why do we need people if we aren't going to war, and volunteers for guards—the rates have never been higher!"

"We just do!" Nachtigal snapped again, and Rowen resisted the urge to take a second step back. Nachtigal might be the king of Rashugal, but Rowen had known him since he was seventeen. He wasn't going to back down.

"I leave for the funeral of the head of one of the Ruling Families and I come back to you having massacred two hundred people. Nachtigal, I think an explanation better than 'we just do' is requ—"

"What did you just call me?"

Nachtigal's eyes snapped up to meet his. Rowen froze. "Ilbert, I have allowed you familiarity before, in an intimate setting. Make no mistakes about our true relationship."

It was like someone had replaced his insides with ice. If Rowen had been a weaker man, he might have started crying. He very nearly did. He wanted to.

"Nachtigal, this is ridiculous," Rowen snapped back. He could see the veins standing out on the younger man's arm, twitching just below the surface of his forehead. "You never spoke to me about this." 

"Your position as Chief of Staff regards only to the army—and besides, I am starting to think that perhaps Gilland is right and that you are losing your touch."

It was like Nachtigal had punched him in the face.

"Gilland," his voice came out of his mouth a low, cold whine. "This was Gilland's idea."

"He pointed out that we needed income, and sacking the town provided what they were lacking from their taxes. A people should be afraid of their ruler, not a ruler of their people." Rowen bit his tongue at Nachtigal's words. He would not even dignify that with an answer. "And perhaps he was right about you as well. It's been a very long time, Rowen. After all, Fezebel was what…fifteen years ago? You've been out of action since then."

"Because the war is over," Rowen's voice was cold, "And I hope it stays that way. I had hoped that when I killed your brother perhaps we would be given prosperity but I see now that I was mistaken." Nachtigal's entire body was shaking now. Rowen didn't stop. "Perhaps _he_ was right, and you were not fit to be a ruler. These years without Carrie have changed you, Nacht—"

"Don't you speak of her in that way!" The younger man shouted.

"And how am I to speak of her, when you dishonour her memory by ruthlessly massacring her people?" Rowen screamed back, his temper finally lost, and the gestured outside. "How about _you_ stop and think for a moment about what you've done to her memory. To your own memory? Your fifteen years of prosperity will be forgotten for the one _idiot_ decision you ever made. Perhaps I should have left your brother on the throne and let you have been the one to die in that fight without Carrie to temper you!"

"You dare speak to your king in that way?" Nachtigal was yelling. Rowen realised, abruptly, that he was as well. They always had fought—their personalities were very similar, they butted heads constantly. But that was small arguments. This was different. They hadn't yelled at each other in years.

"I'll speak to my king however I damn well please!" Rowen snarled in return, and Nachtigal looked taken aback.

He very rarely swore.

"Especially as my _king_ seems to no longer be worthy of that title. If Maxwell had willed it and Carrie had lived, she would have made a better Queen than you and all your brothers put together, if this is what the Fan blood comes down to in the end."

"You take her name in vain," Nachtigal took a step forward, trying to menace him. Rowen didn't even bend. Nachtigal might have had nearly a foot on him, but Rowen had looked death in the eyes enough times to not be afraid of anything—not even an upstart king.

"No, I take her name in trying to make you see reason!"

"You never really loved her!"

The room went absolutely, deathly silent. Nachtigal's expression cycled quickly through incandescent anger, irrational fear, and emotional pain. Rowen felt very, very cold.

"You go too far," he finally whispered, low and hoarse and quiet and cold. His voice didn't feel like it was coming out of his mouth. Neither of them moved. Rowen could feel cold fire, anger, roaring through his veins. "Nachtigal, you go too far."

"Rowen, I didn't mean that—" he was back-pedalling already, fear and confusion in his eyes, but the damage was done. He had said it, and now it hung in the air between them, like hatred burning low and cold in Rowen's heart.

He turned away from his king.

"I see now," every word he said felt like it was spoken around a mouth full of cotton. "I believe that I understand, now, why your father feared you as king. It is clear to me that more than fifteen years mean nothing, and nearly forty even less." Rowen straightened, suddenly feeling his age—he was sixty in the spring and he had never noticed it so much before now, never realised just how old he was getting. "Perhaps I was misguided in my decisions about you. I see this clearly now." He stared at the door in front of him, not seeing it, not seeing anything at all.

The room was silent. Rowen was not sure if either one of them was breathing.

"Goodbye, Your Majesty. I wish you well in all your endeavours to come."

Rowen walked out of the palace.

He heard and felt every shout of his name as Nachtigal followed him, he heard them as the man's voice broke and there were tears in his voice, felt them like red-hot jabs to his heart.

Rowen did not cry. 

He did not go back to his old rooms, or the rooms he had shared for more than a decade with his King.

He simply left.

Nobody tried to stop him.

He did not look back.

**Author's Note:**

> im so mad this entire thing is rethi's fault.


End file.
